adame de
Saint-Dizier. The latter answered by an impatient wave of the hand, as
if she reproached him for the formal demand at such a time. The reverend
father bowed, and dictated these words in a hoarse and hollow voice:
"All our hopes, which of late had become almost certainties, have been
suddenly defeated. The affair of the Rennepont inheritance, in spite
of all the care and skill employed upon it, has completely and
finally failed. At the point to which matters had been brought, it is
unfortunately worse than a failure; it is a most disastrous event for
the Society, which was clearly entitled to this property, fraudulently
withdrawn from a confiscation made in our favor. My conscience at least
bears witness, that, to the last moment, I did all that was possible
to defend and secure our rights. But I repeat, we must consider this
important affair as lost absolutely and forever, and think no more about
it."

Thus dictating, Father d'Aigrigny's back was turned towards Rodin. At a
sudden movement made by the socius, in rising and throwing his pen upon
the table, instead of continuing to write, the reverend father turned
round, and, looking at Rodin with profound astonishment, said to him:
"Well! what are you doing?"

"It is time to end this--the man is mad!" said Rodin to himself, as he
advanced slowly towards the fireplace.

"What! you quit your place--you cease writing?" said the reverend
father, in amazement. Then, addressing the princess, who shared in his
astonishment, he added, as he glanced contemptuously at the socius, "He
is losing his senses."

"Forgive him," replied Mme. de Saint-Dizier; "it is, no doubt, the
emotion caused by the ruin of this affair."

"Thank the princess, return to your place, and continue to write," said
Father d'Aigrigny to Rodin, in a tone of disdainful compassion, as, with
imperious finger, he pointed to the table.

The socius, perfectly indifferent to this new order, approached the
fireplace, drew himself up to his full height as he turned his arched
back, planted himself firmly on his legs, stamped on the carpet with the
heel of his clumsy, greasy shoes, crossed his hands beneath the flaps of
his old, spotted coat, and, lifting his head, looked fixedly at
Father d'Aigrigny. The socius had not spoken a word, but his hideous
countenance, now flushed, suddenly revealed such a sense of his
superiority, and such sovereign contempt for Father d'Aigrigny, mingled
with so calm and se